Miller Lyddon was much concerned at this bad news.
“Oh, my gude God!” he exclaimed, “that’s worse hearin’ than all or any you could have fetched down. What do Doctor say?”
“Wasn’t worth while to call un up, so Will thought. Ban’t nothin’ to kill a beetle, or I lay the mother of un would have Doctor mighty soon. Will reckoned to get un a dose of physic—an’ a few sweeties. Nature’s all for the young buds. He won’t come to no hurt.”
“Fust thing morning send a lad riding to Newtake,” ordered Mr. Lyddon. “Theer’s no sleep for me to-night, no, nor any more at all till I hear tell the dear tibby-lamb’s well again. ’Pon my soul, I wonder that headstrong man doan’t doctor the cheel hisself.”
“Maybe he will. Ban’t nothin ’s beyond him.”
“I’ll go silly now. If awnly Mrs. Blanchard was up theer wi’ Phoebe.”
“Doan’t you grizzle about it. The bwoy be gwaine to make auld bones yet—hard as a nut he be. Give un years an’ he’ll help carry you to the graave in the fulness of time, I promise ’e,” said Billy, in his comforting way.
CHAPTER VI
THE CROSS UPREARED
Mr. Blee had but reported Will correctly, and it was not until some hours later that the child at Newtake caused his parents any alarm. Then he awoke in evident suffering, and Will, at Phoebe’s frantic entreaty, arose and was soon galloping down through the night for Doctor Parsons.
His thundering knock fell upon the physician’s door, and a moment later a window above him was opened.